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   _{❝ A QUESTION THAT can have consequences if asked to the wrong people. ❞ the Senator answers, her arms fall to the sides of her petite frame, brushing against the silken fabric of her night gown. The Japor snippet gifted to her hangs from her neck.  It’s not as though she neglects to understand his motives and desires, and is appreciative that Anakin feels as though he can talk to her about anything. Which, he can. Concern frames her facial features, resulting in furrowed brows and lips pursed tightly.}

     _{His silhouette is darkness before her against the iridescent morning Naboo sky. He stood out against the glowing horizon as a beacon. Padmé radiated to him, and it pained her to see him so distraught. Her constant memory of Anakin when he was to be absent in the name of his responsibility to the Jedi Order was a vision of sadness, and she longed for a time after war where the pair shared constant laughter and felt no burden weighing on their hearts. However, this seemed more like a dream.}

    _{His tone, perhaps hinting slightly at an accusation of infidelity with Obi-Wan confuses her. She knows Anakin only ever has good intentions, and that the suggestion came from perhaps an unwarranted place of jealously. She joins him at the balcony, placing a hand so close beside his they almost touched.}

  _{❝ Obi-Wan is a dear friend, Ani. We talk when we see each other. Which is scarce. ❞ She hopes the use of his childhood nickname ignites his softer side, and the Senator moves her hand so that it is delicately placed over his. She says nothing more on the topic, knowing she does not need to justify her friendship with the Jedi Master, but makes note of Anakin’s insecurity to ensure she does not upset him further.}

 _{The next words have her swallowing hard, but her face remains composed. The Senator was not ready to die. She was healthy and wanted to continue to serve to the Senate until she saw justice for the Republic. Padmé had escaped death multiple times now, and was not ready to see the end yet. Instead of dismissing his confession, she removes her hand from his out of shock. She is still and silent before speaking, choosing her words carefully. The word SITH brings an unnerving chill to her spine and she feels uneasy.  ❝ … How? ❞}

               THE WAR HAS changed Anakin, twisted the almost tangible energy pent up inside the men into a knot of poorly-suppressed anger that might slip at any moment. He’s turned quiet && still, && prone to staring off emptily for long periods of time, lost within his own thoughts, or perhaps existing outside of them. The numbness that has begun to spread from his core slips climbing ropes of ice through his veins, chilling him. His smiling seems more now like a baring of teeth, as though he’s been cornered into one side of himself, threatening to pounce. 

             But her words cow him, && he releases his tight grip on the balustrade. ❝ Do you consider yourself ‘the wrong people’, Padmé? ❞ The conviction in his voice betrays the shame bubbling in his gut. It feels wrong to discuss the Dark Side with anyone, especially his wife—who, for all he loves her && she loves him—can never truly understand the pull && push of the Force on those sensitive to it. Stars, sometimes Anakin still doesn’t understand it himself. He remembers, distinctly, the way Qui-Gon had first described the Force to him.

     The Force is a subtle fluid, a galactic element, phosphoric && ancient, something spread evenly at creation through all of the universe, but prone to accrete around certain individuals && their abilities. It allows us to do great && terrible things.

     Terrible things, Qui-Gon, sir?

     The Force can be used in many ways, not all of them good. 

               Anakin can’t understand what’s bad about wanting to save Padmé’s life. It’d be worse to let her die. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just stood to the side && watched it happen. Master Yoda is wrong, I don’t care what he says! Maybe the Dark Side doesn’t always have to be bad, if it’s being used for the right reason. Qui-Gon had told him that neither side of the Force is inherently evil, && that it’s what you do with the Force that matters. 

               Her question throws him off. He blinks rapidly before answering, ❝ I’m not sure. They didn’t tell me how yet. ❞ But Anakin has faith that Palpatine will. The Chancellor’s friendship feels a bit smothering at times, but he knows the man’s intentions are good. He’s always cared for Anakin’s opinion on things, && sometimes he feels like the only person he can truly talk to when his days turn dark. When fatigue && absolute, crippling despair cradles him in its barbed hands. ❝ I…trust them. ❞